


Fallen Angels

by Zoe_Perdita



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Assassins & Hitmen, Drug Use, F/M, Gay Male Character, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-08
Updated: 2015-01-08
Packaged: 2018-03-06 15:37:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3139610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zoe_Perdita/pseuds/Zoe_Perdita
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Quatre POV.  Set ten years after Endless Waltz, Quatre is a recovering drug addict and seeks out Duo only to find his old friend is a bitter assassin.  One shot.  Character death.  </p>
<p>Warnings:  Past 3x4x3.  Past 2xHx2.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fallen Angels

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, I wrote this back in 2004. I'm putting up my old fics just because. Enjoy!

Duo stood in a corner and talked to some guy he said had information. What information that was, I couldn’t tell you. He was calmer and less animated than what I remembered, and I was still getting used to it. But then it had been ten years, and a lot can change in ten years. I should know. In that span of time I’d gone from Gundam pilot, to CEO of my late father’s company, to a drug addict. 

At first it was just a little pick me up to get through a meeting. Then maybe something to get rid of a headache, something to help me sleep, something to help me function, something to help me feel as normal as I was supposed to act. 

And I can’t even tell you how quickly something becomes anything. 

I didn’t even like looking in the mirror anymore. It just reminded me of how far I’d fallen. I was thin and wasted with dark bags under my eyes. My hair was limp and longer than I’d like it to be, but I really didn’t have the energy to cut it. All I really had the energy for anymore was taking whatever I could get my hands on and blocking out everything else in the world. 

Every responsibility. 

Every loss.

Every mistake. 

I had a lot to block out.

Of course, all of that was before my loving sister, Iria, and my stint in rehab. It hadn’t been easy for her to get me to go. You know, that whole “you gotta admit you have a problem first” thing. To cut to the chase I admitted it. I didn’t really want the help at the time, but I needed it. And I was smart enough to see that. 

I’ve actually been clean for six months now. 

That’s something. 

After rehab I started going to meetings and seeing a drug counselor. That’s where I heard about the idea of seeing people from your past and apologizing, catching up, and reconnecting with them. My counselor thought it would be good for me to find the other pilots and talk to them. I can’t say I was really thrilled with the idea. I hadn’t talked to any of them in years, but I figured it couldn’t hurt. 

I didn’t know what happened to Heero. I hadn’t seen him since the last war ended, and I guess he wanted it to stay that way. 

Trowa, I hadn’t seen since we got into that fight about seven years before, and I still didn’t know what to say to him. 

Wu Fei I’d seen on occasion when Winner Enterprises would do some charity event for the Preventers. We talked a bit, but in the end I think he knew what was going on. I avoided him out of embarrassment and shame. At least that’s what I told myself at the time. Maybe he just brought up too many old memories. 

That left Duo. I hadn’t seen him in years either, and I had no idea what he’d been up to. But he was my best bet, so I tracked him down and knocked on his door. That was two weeks ago, and now I knew all too well what he’d become. He was an assassin, and from what I could gather he was pretty good. Better than he was as a teenager. He was calm and controlled, like a machine. I guess all those years in the war were good for something.

He was still in the corner, and I sat at a table with a soda water and a cigarette. I doubt anyone in the bar knew he had two guns hidden in holsters under his leather coat and one very large hunting knife tucked into his boot. I knew because I’d seen him put them there. 

“Sometimes a man’s gotta have friends that won’t let him down,” he said when he slid them in place. He was right, and I didn’t blame him in the least for feeling that way. I had plenty of friends over the years that never let me down. It was a shame I couldn’t call on them anymore.

After a couple more minutes he left the man in the corner and walked back over to me. “Come on, I got all I need,” he said, and I followed. 

As we stepped out into the cold night air, I pulled my coat tighter around my arms and watched Duo take the lead. He had grown taller, and he was lean and muscular like a runner or swimmer. His braid bounced against his jacket as he walked. It was pretty depressing to see him look so good while I looked like a junkie.

“How about back to my place, Qat?” he asked and turned to look at me. 

I only nodded and let him lead me back to his small apartment. It was on the top floor, and I needed all of the energy I had to climb the stairs. 

Duo didn’t hum, or whistle or even make small talk on the way back. In fact, you’d think after two weeks with him I’d have had my ear talked off. But that was another thing different about him. He was actually quiet. I guess that comes from being alone so long. I know I wasn’t as talkative as I used to be. 

After we made it to his apartment he threw off the leather jacket, grabbed a beer out of his fridge and plopped down on the couch. I sat on the opposite end and pulled out another cigarette. If it wasn’t one addiction, it had to be another. 

“You must’ve really missed me to stick around this long,” Duo said after a swig of his beer. He gave me a small smile when I looked at him. It wasn’t something he did often anymore, and it wasn’t the same kind of happy-go-lucky smile he used to have. His new smiles never reached his eyes.

I just shrugged. “It’s better than being back there.”

“Yeah, and I always pegged you to be the type to stick around. Never thought you’d be a runner too,” he said and watched me.

I didn’t know what to say to that. He was right. I ran away. So, I just took a drag off my cigarette and looked back at him. “Are you going to tell me what this new job you have is?” He’d gotten it one week ago and hadn’t said a word about it. Despite myself, I was curious.

“No,” he said, shook his head and tapped his nose. “It’s confidential information.”

I nodded and took a long drag off of my cigarette.

“You never said why you didn’t try to find the others. Why me, Quatre?” he asked after another moment of silence. “Did you figure whatever you were would look good in comparison?”

I gave a short laugh at that and had a bit of a coughing fit. When I got myself under control again I answered him. “I didn’t feel like trying to find Heero. It would have been too much of a headache. And Wu Fei is easy to get to, but I didn’t want to see him like this. You know how he is.” 

Duo nodded like he expected me to continue, but I didn’t.

“Trowa?” he asked after a minute. 

“I made some mistakes, and we grew apart.”

Duo downed the rest of his beer.

“Whatever happened to you?” I asked. This was the most he’d talked to me since I got there, I figured I should try and keep the conversation going. “I haven’t seen you in eight years, what happened to Hilde?” I only had a vague memory of that girl, but she was loyal to Duo.

It was his turn to laugh. It was cold and empty, like space. “Some times people just want more than you can give them.”

He didn’t want to talk about it. I could respect that. “Do you ever miss the war?” I asked as I shrugged off my coat and pulled my knees up to my chest.

“No,” he said and his eyes wandered back into the past. “That was hell.” 

He got that haunted look in his eyes, and I knew what he was thinking about. It was the time he got captured by Oz. He never told us what happened to him, and we never asked. Somethings are better left buried. All we knew was that Heero rescued him, and he was in very bad shape.

“Have you seen any of them recently,” I asked to change the subject.

“No. Shinigami works better alone.”

I almost forgot he called himself that. Shinigami, the God of Death. “In the last war you didn’t want to kill anybody. What changed?”

He shook his head and laughed again. Cold and empty. “And you didn’t even want to touch alcohol, Quatre. What changed there?”

It was a mean thing to say, I suppose. But he was right, so I just pulled out another cigarette and waited for him to answer.

“Youthful idealism is what made me not want to kill,” he said and took a deep breath like he was preparing to give a speech. “It’s what made me fight in both wars. The idea that we could bring about peace for mankind. What a joke.”

“But there haven’t been anymore wars since,” I reminded him and took a drag.

“Not on that scale. But there are smaller street wars between gangs and factions. There is still murder and rape and all kinds of violence. And we can’t do anything to change that. We thought we could save the world, Quatre. We were wrong. No one can save the world. Look at us now, we can’t even save ourselves,” he said and looked at me. 

I knew why, and I couldn’t tell if it was out of disgust or concern. They all just meshed together now.

I took another drag off of my cigarette. “Look how far we’ve fallen,” I said and gave him a weak and wasted smile. It was the only one I could manage.

“We fell along time ago, Quatre, when we fell to earth. I don’t think we should’ve lived this long. We should’ve died in the war,” he said calmly and looked at his hands.

“You sound just like Heero,” I said and laughed.

He looked at me sharply and shook his head. “That’s not funny,” he said and walked into his bedroom and shut the door.

It wasn’t funny, but I kept laughing.

* * *

Those days with Duo Maxwell seemed to pass like we were underwater. Slow and silent. But I didn’t really mind. It was nice to finally relax and not be expected to tell people about my feelings, like I was under a microscope. That’s what I was at home, a bug under a microscope. Everyone was watching to see if I would screw up again. Part of me, the irrational part that I keep under very good wraps, wanted to screw up just to show them nobody had control of my life but me, and I could do what I wanted. But I didn’t.

One afternoon I caught Duo packing a suitcase full of sniper rifles and clothes. It was Duo, after all, and no matter what else changed about him, he still couldn’t pack. 

“Where are you going?” I asked, leaning against the rotting door frame.

“To take care of that job,” he said and glanced up at me.

“May I come?” 

“It’s your life, Qat, you can do what you want. You might wanna pack warm. Hokkaido is supposed to be cold this time of year,” he said.

I walked out of his room and threw the few things I’d brought into my tattered designer suitcase. I didn’t. . . . No, couldn’t go back there yet. Plus, I’d always wanted to visit the former Japanese Islands.

We jumped on a redeye all the way from Duo’s tiny apartment in San Francisco to Narita International, right outside of Tokyo. After that is was a train ride to Aomori and a ferry ride across the Tsugaru straight. Then another train ride through Hokkaido to get to Wakkanai, the Japanese island’s northern most city. The entire island of Hokkaido was bathed in fresh snow. 

As we rode in the small train car, I stared out the window while Duo cleaned one of his rifles. 

“You should go see him,” he said suddenly, and I snapped my neck to look at him.

“Who?” I asked although I already had a pretty good idea.

“Trowa,” he answered and not once looked up from his chore.

“Duo,” I began and shook my head, “I don’t know what to say to him. Besides, things change.”

He glanced up at me and nodded. “I know, Qat. I know.” And we rode the rest of the way in silence.

When we stepped off the train and into the biting cold, I appreciated my thick coat. The wind whipped the snowflakes through the air and the snow crunched beneath my feet, but it made me feel something I hadn’t felt in a long time. 

Alive.

“Where are we going?” I asked as he turned left and headed toward the end of the city and the ocean.

“You don’t have to come Quatre,” he said, almost shouting. “You can get a hotel and relax.”

It was true that if I got a hotel I could satisfy my nicotine addiction for a minute, because I was never going to be able to light a cigarette in a snowstorm. Not even I’m that talented. But there was no way I was going to let him go alone either. 

“No,” I shouted back. “I want to see if your as good as you claim.”

He turned around and gave me a quick smile. It was almost frightening, like looking death right in the face. “I’m very good,” he said and continued toward the coast. 

I followed.

Duo stopped on the tip of a small cliff with an old fashioned light house on top of it. My teeth chattered, and I stomped my feet to make them feel something. 

Duo, on the other hand, looked cold but wasn’t letting it get to him. “You shouldn’t have come, Quatre,” he said as we stood there. 

I didn’t reply to him. Instead I rubbed my hands together and waited. 

In a manner of minutes, I heard slow and steady footsteps coming behind us, and I tried to turn around, but Duo caught me and shook his head. 

When the person finally came into view they had a hooded parka pulled up shielding their face from the weather and prying eyes. They were also holding a thin black suitcase.

“Why did you bring him?” the man asked, his voice deep and steady. It was so familiar.

Duo just shrugged in reply. “He wanted to come.”

“Fine,” the man said and set down the thin suitcase. Then they took a few steps away and looked out at the ocean. “The money’s all there. Whenever you’re ready.”

Duo nodded and pulled out the sniper rifle in his bag, loaded it and aimed. He was about twenty feet away from the person when they lowered their hood. I saw the back of his head. It had the same dark brown hair, and it was as unruly as I remembered. I hadn’t seen him in ten years. He had been a boy then, and now he was a man, like the rest of us.

“Heero,” I shouted and took a step forward, and Duo shot. 

Heero never turned around. 

The bullet ripped through his parka. 

His heart. 

I ran before I realized what I was doing and turned him over. 

His blood pooled out and melted the surrounding snow. His blue eyes were open, and yet they saw nothing. 

“He was supposed to go over the edge,” Duo said as he walked up beside me. 

I slowly stood up and looked at him. “Why, Duo?”

“Because,” he said and unceremoniously pushed Heero’s body into the sea, “he paid me to do it.”

I glanced at the black suit case sitting innocently in the snow. “But he was your friend,” I insisted and bit my lip. 

I could feel all the old pain, all the old mistakes coming back. I felt the burning behind my eyes and a few tears ran down my cheeks. I hadn’t cried in a long time, not for anyone besides myself.

Duo kicked all the bloodied snow over the edge next and looked at me. I never knew if it was a look of sadness for what he’d done or sadness for me. I guess I never will. 

“You said it yourself, Quatre, things change,” Duo said and walked down the hill.

I turned to look out at the ocean and stood there for a long time. 

The hot tears burned my skin, and my heart felt like it was going to explode. 

I screamed. I couldn’t stand it. I wanted to disappear, but I didn’t. I stayed right where I was, cold but very much alive. 

I took a deep breath and brought a trembling cigarette to my lips. 

I had been clean for six months, and that was something.


End file.
